The morning breeze crept through the gates of Bretalia like a stray cat—lazy and fleeting.

  The group walked under the cold light of a clouded sun. The trail was damp from the previous night's rains, and the scent of wet earth followed their steps like an old friend.

  They passed the soldiers at the northern gate. Most ignored them, but one or two gave a discreet nod to Jay—who returned it with that calm gesture of someone who seems to know more people than a king.

  "Hmm..." Su Mei arched an eyebrow. "This one suggests a new plan: Jay for Governor. Or Duke. Or, perhaps... Emperor?" "Governor? Meow! Only if it’s for the Cheese Bread Guild, right, Jay?" Layla teased with a grin.

  Jay shrugged, a weary smile playing on his lips.

  "Only if it comes with absolute power over the cheese bread. No assembly required."

  They laughed.

  For a moment, just for a fleeting moment, everything felt right.

  Then... the breeze died. The laughter died with it.

  A commotion. Voices rose many meters ahead. The sound of rasping metal, of spells being woven. Jay heard it first—his ears had long since learned to identify the timbre of terror in a human voice.

  "It’s her! It’s Decarya! That woman! It’s Decarya! An elf and a lion! It has to be!!"

  "We’re doomed!"

  Jay’s spine turned to ice. The air left his lungs. Time stretched thin, like an arrow pulled to its limit.

  Decarya.

  The name was poison. A whisper capable of making men soil their armor.

  The Crimson Blade.

  The Decapitator.

  The Faceless Guillotine.

  A myth? An assassin? A walking curse? Jay didn't stop to ask.

  He simply acted.

  The crackle of conjured magic sparked. A rune of golden light formed in the air, the sacred armor enveloping his body with a muffled thunderclaps. His sword appeared in his hand as if it had always been there. He pivoted his weight.

  "Hide! NOW!" was all he shouted.

  And he bolted.

  The earth roared beneath his feet. The world became a blur of green, brown, and panic. Jay leaped over the first barricades, ignoring the stares, the guards, and the protests. His gaze was fixed on the source of the chaos. Far. Too far.

  They must be dead already...

  But they weren't.

  Then, in the center of it all, he saw her. An elf. Yes.

  Alone. Wide eyes. A confused smile.

  It wasn't... Decarya.

  There was indeed a beast by her side, but it was a gryphon—no, not quite a gryphon. It was a thing of feathers and talons, with a face reminiscent of an ancestral owl. Its feathered body, black and gold, shielded the elf with the posture of a celestial beast. But it was definitely not a lion.

  Around them... Thirty? Forty? An entire platoon of adventurers armed to the teeth.

  Spells were at the ready. Enchanted swords were raised. Trembling bows were notched and aimed. They surrounded her like predators before a kill that was already dead.

  The elf, however, was still trying to smile.

  "I... I think there’s been a mistake...?"

  Jay arrived like a lightning strike; the earth exploded. Grass and mud flew skyward. Bodies were tossed aside. Feet lost their grip on the ground. Cries of panic mingled with the sudden deafness caused by the shockwave.

  Jay raised his hands, tracing seals with his fingers—so fast that ordinary eyes could not follow. A barrier shimmered around the elf, and the gryphon was enveloped in golden light.

  Two more simple seals followed, his voice now shaking the air like divine thunder, amplified by the spell.

  "STOP! YOU ARE MAKING A TERRIBLE—"

  Too late. The spells were unleashed. Fireballs, frost bolts, air blades, stone spikes. A cacophony of brutal power.

  The elf screamed, spinning and covering her ears; the gryphon roared, shielding her with its colossal, golden-glowing wings. Jay closed his eyes for a second.

  It’s fine... it’s going to be fine...

  Hands in motion. Seal after seal. Ten. Twenty. Twenty-five—

  Then, he looked at the sky.

  "No..."

  A meteor. A damned meteor.

  "Who was the id—" he huffed.

  Twenty-six...

  Thirty seals are needed. Is there time? There isn't.

  Improvise, Jay... Cut corners. Shorten the incantations. Use an ancient spell. Sacrifice soma. Pray. It has to work!

  "Henm, hear my call..."

  ...

  Meanwhile, at the gate... Layla, her ears still pricked, looked toward the surrounding forest.

  "Nessa, what was that?! Why did Jay run off like that!?"

  Nessa was breathing hard.

  "I... I don't know. It sounds like there's some trouble up ahead... I heard a word. A name. I didn't quite catch it... something like... Decalia? Thessalia?"

  Su Mei slumped down onto her heels.

  "...D-Decarya."

  The two turned at once. Su Mei was trembling. Her face was white. Her hands clutched her knees, her shorts becoming slightly damp.

  "She’s here. She’s here!"

  "Who?! Meow, what are you talking about!?"

  "You don't understand!" Su Mei shouted, losing her usual composure. "It’s Decarya! The Devourer of Kingdoms! The blade that dances with its own blood! The assassin who kills the name before cutting the throat!"

  "The... The person Jay found... is it her!?"

  "This one don't know!" Su Mei screamed. "But if it is... we’ve already lost! We’re already dead..."

  Nessa took a step back. Layla looked into the monk's eyes. For the first time... Su Mei was afraid. Truly afraid. Not just fear—despair.

  Layla snapped her fingers.

  "Come on, Nessa. I’ll carry Su Mei. You cover me. We’re heading into the forest and praying this Decarya doesn't know how to track a sweaty kiteni, meow!"

  And so, with the terrified monk on her back, the kiteni bolted into the woods, the cleric stumbling behind.

  And the thunder, far off in the distance, roared once more.

  ...

  The world did not explode.

  Not at that moment.

  But the silence that followed Jay’s prayer... was so deep it felt as though even time had forgotten to move forward.

  Henm had smiled. And that was all it took.

  A thundering light erupted beneath the adventurers' feet. It was as if the gods had struck the ground with a staff and declared "enough." All the casters, warriors, arcanists, rangers, and hunters—the forty-three heroes who once dreamed of facing the fearsome Decarya—were tossed back like dry leaves in a gale.

  From the ground, dazed, peering through the cracks in the mud, they saw something.

  That man.

  Standing. Immovable, like a wall that had decided to protect something of its own accord.

  The elf was still on her knees, hugging the gryphon. The creature’s massive wings shielded her trembling body, and the sacred barrier still pulsed like a golden heart.

  Jay stared the group down.

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  His eyes glowed with gold.

  His voice, bolstered by magic, was clear, serene, and non-negotiable:

  "This is not the woman you think she is. I have seen her. With my own eyes. And I can assure you... this is not her."

  The murmurs began.

  "It’s him..."

  "It can't be..."

  "The armor..."

  "The aura..."

  "It’s THE paladin..."

  "The Bastion of Dawn..."

  "Has he returned?"

  The paladin who sealed the Fall of the Usurper. The man who helped King Edsor XV reclaim the throne of Dalmastia. A living legend—or, at the very least, a long-lost one.

  Jay took a deep breath.

  With a small gesture, he conjured a subtle blessing. An imperceptible wave of calm washed over the hearts of the men and women before him. They didn't notice the spell. But their breathing slowed. Their eyes stopped darting. Fingers that had been tensed around hilts began to relax.

  Jay stepped forward, slowly, each stride like a nail in their conscience.

  "If this were truly the Crimson Blade, half of you wouldn't have even had time to stammer out your spells."

  The sting of truth hit harder than a cutting wind spell. They knew it. Most only knew the name. The few who had seen Decarya and survived... did not speak of it.

  A man from the group, the leader—a warrior with a scarred face, red hair, and a double-headed axe of crimson steel—approached slowly. He looked at Jay, lowered his eyes, and extended a hand.

  Jay shook it lightly, respectfully.

  "My apologies. This wasn't the battle you were expecting. But still... do not be reckless. A mistake like this can kill more than just reputations."

  The leader nodded. The group began to disperse, slowly, their dignity bruised and their knees still shaky.

  Jay sighed. He looked at the elf.

  The gryphon’s wings retracted. The giant creature, now facing Jay, began to preen itself like a cat. A two-and-a-half-meter cat. Its black and gold feathers shimmered under the sun.

  Jay held out his hand. The elf took it. She rose, slowly.

  And it was like watching a painting come to life.

  Long, wavy black hair held up in a high bun with a white tiara. A slender face, large and expressive green eyes, and rosy lips contrasting with clear, fair skin. A loose-fitting blouse that seemed to defy the laws of physics. A half-skirt with a split of indecent confidence. A posture of effortless nobility.

  Jay swallowed hard.

  High elven fashion... it has to be.

  "Thank you," the elf said with a gentle smile, light as a spring breeze. "My name is Jasmin. I was passing through the Elder Forest, so I stopped here."

  Jay blinked.

  "The Elder...? The... Elder Forest of Thar’dalar?"

  She nodded, giving a little hop at the end.

  Jay nearly lost his soul's equilibrium.

  She survived... alone... in Thar’dalar? That explains the gryphon... but it doesn't explain how she can still smile.

  He activated his ocular blessing without her noticing. What he saw made him knit his brows. He said nothing.

  "You know, Mr. Paladin," she smiled, her green eyes shimmering with a mischievous kindness, "in my land, we usually say our names when we meet someone new... I’ve said mine. What about yours?"

  Jay realized he was still wearing his helm.

  With a resigned sigh, he removed it, revealing his long blue hair and serene face, marked by scars of light and shadow.

  "Jay."

  She smiled again. She extended her hand, adjusting a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  He gave an awkward smile and shook it. The gryphon chirped and went back to cleaning itself.

  "Well..." Jay said, turning toward the road. "I need to head back. My group is waiting for me. I hope you... can continue your journey without further trouble."

  "Bretalia awaits me. I hope I don't cause another mess like this..."

  Jay laughed gently and began to walk away. A comforting breeze blew behind him, like a sign. Jasmin turned her head.

  Zarpheon—the gryphon—now little larger than a common cat on her shoulder, stared in Jay’s direction as if he already knew. His large eyes were steady, resigned.

  She felt it.

  It was the Heart of the Mountain, once again.

  "So this is as far as you’ve guided me...?" With a sweet sigh, Jasmin smiled. "So be it, then."

  ...

  Jay heard footsteps approaching from behind—light and rhythmic, like someone who wanted to be noticed... but didn't want to seem desperate for attention.

  "Decided to come?" he said without turning, his voice low, like someone who had read the script in advance.

  "I changed my mind," she replied, with the haughtiness of someone granting a favor. "I believe a ranger-scout can add quite a bit to an adventuring party, wouldn't you agree? Besides... Zarpheon likes you. And he’s an excellent judge of character."

  Jay looked up at the sky. Clouds drifted lazily, indifferent to the impending chaos. He could already hear, with disconcerting precision, the hysterical screams, jealous accusations, and perhaps—just perhaps—unidentified flying objects coming from the other girls in the group.

  "Another 'discreet' woman in this group. This is going to be a disaster..." he muttered to himself, like someone signing a contract while knowing the "inevitable explosion" clause.

  Jasmin arched an eyebrow, an enchanting half-smile on her lips and a playful glint in her eyes. She walked with her hands clasped behind her back, her steps light and graceful—like a princess in flight, or perhaps just very well-trained in looking casual.

  "I have a bow, I attack from a distance... I can even cook." She gave a wink. "Though you clearly look like the type who wouldn't let go of the stew ladle even under torture. Zarpheon flies, by the way. Look at that: two for the price of one."

  The gryphon, perched on her shoulder in the size of a chubby cat, let out a loud "chirp," as if approving the bargain. Perhaps he understood, or perhaps he was just asking for dried fish.

  Jay sighed, defeated. He nodded with the same resignation of one accepting their fate.

  "All right... Welcome, Jasmin."

  She smiled, as if that answer had been obvious from the start. And perhaps it was.

  ...

  Meanwhile...

  The forest seemed to swallow the daylight in large, lazy gulps. Under the thick canopy, the world was a muffled whisper of branches and leaves. The humidity clung to the skin like a persistent and unwelcome hug.

  Layla sweated in silence, her arm muscles tensed as she held Su Mei, who was light as a rag doll—and just as fragile in that moment. The monk was trembling. She murmured as if sleeping on the edge of a nightmare, unsure if it was a dream... or a memory.

  "This one... does not want to die... not like this..."

  Nessa followed beside them, whispering prayers, her lips moving with the resigned calm of someone who knew this was all she could do—and yet, she did it with devotion.

  Layla, on the other hand, was growling. Literally.

  "Jay, you idiot... meow... if you die, I swear I’ll kill you later!"

  Nessa looked up, blowing away a strand of hair that insisted on falling over her face.

  "Do you think he’s okay?"

  "He’s Jay," Layla replied as if saying "water is wet." "But... that name. The monk nearly turned to mush just hearing it."

  "Decarya..." Nessa whispered, as if the name itself weighed more than it should.

  Layla clenched her fists. The retractable claws on her fingers nearly scraped her palms.

  "Some names... they carry curses, meow. And sometimes... they’re too real to doubt. I was never one for hunting legends... but that name... I’ve seen it on posters. Or... something like it. A different face every time. A different name, too. But the chill down the spine was always the same."

  Silence fell over them like a thick blanket. Neither wanted to strike up a conversation after that.

  They found a clearing. A patch of sparse grass surrounded by twisted trunks that seemed to watch from a distance, with enough light to make it feel less frightening than the rest of the forest. They laid Su Mei down there carefully, in an improvised nest of cloaks and broad leaves. It was then that Layla gave a loud huff.

  "Meow... that Jay took off so fast he didn't even remember to summon Aethon!"

  Nessa blinked.

  "Wait... are all our things with his horse?"

  "Exactly. Armor, tent, rations, my snacks..." she pointed her finger as if filing an official report. "Everything on Jay’s magic steed. And where is the steed? With Jay. And where is Jay? We don't know, meow."

  Nessa let out a weary sigh. One of those that hurt in the bones.

  "We’ll have to manage with whatever the forest gives us."

  As if hearing the proposal, the wind blew gently, rustling the leaves above with a soft, almost reassuring sound.

  It would soon be noon.

  "We’ll wait here. An hour or two. If he doesn't come back..." Layla paused briefly. "We go back to the city."

  Nessa nodded, even though she knew neither of them could simply "go back" and leave Jay behind.

  Su Mei, now sleeping soundly, seemed to breathe more easily. Perhaps it was the effect of the prayers. Perhaps it was just exhaustion.

  She murmured in her sleep—disconnected, haunted words.

  And the forest remained there, quiet. Watching. Waiting.

  ...

  Back on the road...

  The trail was quiet—too quiet for Jay’s liking. The sun filtered through lazy clouds, bathing the daylight in a warm, golden hue, as if the whole world had entered standby mode.

  Jay crouched, his fingers tracing the dry soil with the familiarity of someone who had tracked everything from bandits to dragons—and, once, a certain runaway horse that had learned how to open gates.

  He analyzed the scene calmly.

  Small, soft prints with the slight curve typical of feline claws. And right beside them, the fine, elegant marks of sandals—light steps, almost dancing across the earth.

  But no sign of Su Mei. There were no prints from the monk.

  Jay furrowed his brow. But the scent... He inhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

  It was there. The faint aroma of dormant tea and ancient parchment—Su Mei. And beneath it, something more subtle... more human.

  Fear.

  He let out a long sigh, the kind that carries both worry and resignation.

  "They fled..."

  Jasmin, standing a few steps back, twirled a thin dagger between her fingers, as if killing time. Her gaze danced between the trees and the tracks before settling back on Jay.

  Zarpheon, now perched on a low rock, tilted his head and chirped. Curious. And a bit judgmental.

  "Trouble?" Jasmin asked, with that serene tone only those who aren't directly involved in the problem can maintain.

  Jay stood up, wiping his hands on his arms. An old habit, and not very effective.

  "My companions. They hid in the forest. They were probably afraid of... well..." he hesitated, and for a moment the name of the Crimson Assassin seemed to echo in his mind again. "I’d better go get them."

  Jasmin smiled. A sharp but genuine smile, like someone who knew more than she should—and enjoyed it.

  "Let me guess... a kiteni amazon, another... elf? No... half-elf. A cleric. And a sensual monk who is going through some kind of... existential crisis?"

  Jay narrowed his eyes. He wanted very much—truly—to deny it. But it was hard to argue with a description so absurdly accurate.

  "...You got it," he sighed. "Though the monk isn't exactly in her... usual state. I think."

  Jasmin shrugged with the nonchalance of someone who has lived with parties too messy to be impressed.

  "I see," she said, that playful spark in her eyes as she twirled the dagger between her fingers and sheathed it with the elegance of an artist after a final act.

  Jay remained silent. But his silence... said everything.

  Zarpheon chirped again. Perhaps out of solidarity. Or mockery.

  ?